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COPV'RIGHT DEPOSIT. 



CORDELIA 

AND OTHER POEMS 



Nf B. RIPLEY 



THE 



Bbbcy press 

PUBLISHERS 

114 

FIFTH AVENUE 

Condon NEW YORK montreal 



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THE LIBRARY Ol 

CONGRESS, 

fTwo Copies Received | 

MAY. 16 1901 

Copyright entry 

ICLASS^XXc. N». 

COPY 3, 



f 6 3^3^ 
19^1 



Copyright, 1901, 

by 

THE 

Hbbcy pre89 



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TO 

HIS MOTHER 

THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED BY 

THE AUTHOR 



NOTE. — Of the following poems, ** The Legend of the 
Dipper," and the sonnet, "The Happy," have previously 
appeared in The Christian Advocati ; the sonnets, "June" 
and "Lake George," in Everywhere; "The Empty Nest," 
" March," " Old Age," in the Northern Christian Advocate, 
and two or three others in the local press. The author takes 
pleasure in hereby acknowledging the courtesy which allows 
hitn to republish them here. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGB 

Cordelia — A History 7 

The Consecration — A Legend of Our Colonial 

Period 27 

A Summer Reverie 33 

The Agricultural Fair 36 

The Legend of the Dipper 41 

The Land of the Young , 46 

The Absent 47 

SONNETS. 

The Reformer , 51 

The Empty Nest 52 

March 53 

June 54 

The Happy 55 

Lake George 56 

Old Age 57 



CORDELIA 

AND OTHER POEMS 



Cordelia 



A HISTORY 



Still Stands the beautiful village embosomed in 

hills and meadows; 
Down through the valley beside it bickers the 

stream toward the ocean; 
All o'er the crests of the mountains the woods 

lift their branches skyward, 
And stately monarchs grand of the forest stand, 

like sentinels old, 
Watching with vigilant eye the fields and the 

people beneath them. 

Still on a clear summer evening the sun, in the 
western heavens, 
Spreads out glorious banners resplendent with 
amber and crimson; 
7 



Cordelia 

And bright in the soft twilight, as swallows wing 

flight to the home-nest, 
Hesperus, radiant queen of the star-worl 1, shines 

for a little, 
Then sinks, with the close of the day, to the far 

land of the sunset. 

Just where the hills with verdure and beauty 

slope back toward the westward. 
Stood there in days of the Past, with speed and 

precision receding, 
A cottage painted in red, and housing within it 

a widow 
Whose husband died while he bravely fought for 

the flag of his country. 
She was a woman famed 'mong her neighbors 

for virtue and courage. 
Like her whom the wise man describes and calls 

the virtuous woman. 
Childhood as others know it she knew not 

Wearied oft were her hands. 
And her heart, though the heart of a child, was 

ne'er free from life's burdens. 

Not long ago, in the afternoon of a summer 
and rest-day, 
Sought I the place where she played in the hours 
of her burdened childhood. 

8 



Cordelia 

Still stood the tow'ring hemlocks, with branches 

outspreading, majestic, 
'Neath which, in the few moments she snatched 

from the stress of her labor. 
Passed she her happiest times in a round of 

innocent pleasure. 
Just a short distance away, on its hinges, rusty 

and creaking, 
Hung the old gate which often had swung to 

the touch of her fingers. 
Near it the open porch at the door of the cottage, 

where, erstwhile. 
In service for others, her ready feet resounded 

in passing ! 

Thoughtful and sad, I stood 'mid the scenes 

so familiar around me; 
Up in the ancient hemlocks and maples whispered 

the summer winds — 
Sighed with the same gentle sound she heard 

in the days of her childhood; 
Round me the teeming fields stretched their 

acres of glebe and of meadow ; 
Borne to my senses came the same odors of field 

and of forest; 
Above the same sky, and the same sun flooding 

light o'er the landscape. 

9 



Cordelia 

Strange to live in the midst of so much they 

have wrought who have left us ! 
Strange to walk o'er the sod that has bent to 

the press of their footsteps — 
Footsteps that never, never again shall resound 

o'er our portal — 
And say, while half of our life lies buried, "This 

spot they frequented !" 

Quite early in life she was led in love to the 

nuptial altar. 
Then came to her heart joys of love, home, and 

hopes of maternity. 
Only a few years had passed happily over the 

household 
When over the homes of the country rolled the 

ominous war-cloud. 
Came the fond father home from the heat of his 

labor — 
He was the village smithy, and worked by the 

glow of the forge-fire — 
Came in most anxious mood, with looks on the 

faces and forms of his dear ones. 
Kissing fondly his wife, "Cordelia, my own," he 

said, while his heart spake, 
"Imperiled the country is, and sorely in need of 

defenders. 

SO 



Cordelia 

I hear in this time of distress her call, and haste 

to obey it; 
If in the battle I fall, God will care for you and 

the children." 



Hot fell her tears, but a nobler heart never 

throbbed in a bosom; 
Loved she her dear ones well, but her suffering 

country as dearly; 
Out of her loyal heart spake she strongly, with 

voice patriotic: 
''Go at the call in this hour when are needed the 

strong, the stalwart. 
If in the conflict you fall, and life here must go 

on without you. 
The Lord who keeps watch o'er us all will care ^ 

for me and the children!" 

Into the hot-breathed battle he went with the 

living and dying; 
Proved he a soldier good in the roar of the 

strife, fierce and deadly; 
Fought he as brave man and true, the cause of 

his country defending; 
Shirked he in service neither in camp nor the 

toil of the marches; 

it 



Cordelia 

Zealous was he in the fight for the health and 

life of the Union, 
Yet earnestly longed for the end of the war and 

struggle of battle. 
Out on the ensanguined field, his comrades fast 

falling around him, 
He went, and Death passed him by, nor missile 

nor blade ever harmed him; 
His not to die in the awful roar and the 

slaughter of carnage. 
His a death in the horror and stench of the 

poisonous prison; 
An end even worse than by gleaming sword or 

swift-flying bullet. 

Meanwhile the cottage where, gently, the hills 

sloped back to the westward 
Shrouded and saddened was with a gloom that 

was dreadful, unlifted. 
Children four there were when the war-billows 

raged in the Southland — 
One died ere the husband departed, and was 

sleeping the last sleep — 
And at the hearthstone sat the ghosts of Disease 

and of Poverty. 
Now sat the defenseless woman down at the 

couch of her children, 

12 



Cordelia 

Saw one, in pain, move out of this world toward 

the shores of the other. 
Then followed its cold form to the grave in the 

quiet, old churchyard, 
And watched from her casement, while soft 

moonbeams streamed over the landscape, 
The spot where, in earth's embrace, her loved 

ones were peacefully sleeping! 

Mem'ry recalls a time long after the date of 

this chronicle 
When I came suddenly on her kneeling in sad- 
ness and silence 
Before her stained war-letters, in her presence 

all those mementoes 
So dear to a heart that has suffered and yet 

buried its sorrows. 
Held in caressing hands were two tiny pink 

slippers of satin, 
And while down her cheeks the coursing tears 

were her anguish expressing, 
With lips which could scarcely speak, so deep 

the emotions which stirred her, 
She said to me, *mid her sobbing, "These were 

the shoes of my darling !" 
I knew full well where the feet were, motionless 

now, that had worn them ; 

13 



Cordelia 

Many a time in the quiet, long afternoon of a 

Sabbath, 
Pensively holding my hand, and walking as one 

does in sadness, 
She led me to gaze on the spot, under the shade 

of the maples, 
Where her darlings, with folded hands, beneath 

the grasses, were sleeping; 
And I linked in my thoughts that scene of the 

two satin pink slippers 
With the sorrows which hung like a pall over 

her spirit patient, 
In that day when, under the flag, her husband 

fought 'gainst the rebel. 

There have been heroes bold who fought on 
the field fearful and bloodstained, 

Holding it honor enough though they fell un- 
known in the carnage; 

Unsung their names, ungraved, save on the 
hearts of those who have loved them; 

Reckon always among them, as equally true and 
heroic, 

Women who bade them go forth, and sat by the 
gloom of the hearthstone. 

Bearing alone the burdens of life and of death- 
separation. 

f4 



Cordelia 

Up to the lonely red cottage where sloped the 

hills to the westward — 
Up from the camp in the South, where soldiers 

were kept for the battle — 
Came the news to the mother, already near 

crushed with her burdens. 
That captured the husband was, and now lay in 

a Southern prison ! 
Oh, the long hours and days of the patient and 

terrible vigil! 
The long hours of the nights spent in prayer to 

the Heavenly Father! 
Oh, the waiting, despondent, for news from the 

starving sufferer! 
Oh, how the bright rays flooded the sky of her 

hope for a moment, 
All too soon to be clouded forever in deepness 

of darkness ! 

Came there at last by some comrades of his 

who had been in prison, 
Who by fortune most good had secured the sweet 

boon of freedom, 
News of his death and that of a messmate and 

fellow in torture 
While they closely lay, well-nigh each in the 

embrace of the other! 



Cordelia 

Heavy and sad the heart of the widow, her 
eyes on the future — 

A future filled not only with sadness, but bur- 
dens increasing ; 

Looked on her fatherless sons with compassion 
yearning and tender, 

Lifted her care in prayer to the arms of the 
Bearer of burdens. 

Then with a calm resolution addressed herself to 
the future. 

She was a woman famed *mong her neighbors 

for virtue and courage. 
Like her whom the wise man describes and calls 

the virtuous woman; 
Like Cornelia, the Roman matron, in hist'ry ever 

famous, 
If asked for her jewels by those who look on 

naught but earth's baubles. 
Would have looked on her sons, with their future 

all brightly before them. 
And answered, a woman leal and heroic, "These 

are my jewels!'* 

A queen among mothers; thus my heart and 
my judgment account her. 
Nothing with her, which toil could supply, was 
too good for her children ; 

16 



Cordelia 

Labored she early and late at tasks that were 

heavy and menial, 
That kept might the children be all under the 

sheltering home roof — 
That home might be home, a place of safety and 

rest to her loved ones ! 

Out of penury she, denying herself all but 

essentials, 
Managed to bring into the home those things 

desired by the boy life, 
Proud was she of her boys, and remarked in 

days following after — 
Though she could not have said it because of 

her own experience — 
"I would prefer three boys to a family of one, 

a maiden." 

Most sunny and warm the home was, though 

it was one of the humblest ; 
She who had suffered so much, and had told her 

grief to the Saviour, 
Drove back the falling tears as her thought traced 

the days of her sorrow. 
Out of the conflict rose with the calm of a queen 

and a victor. 
And lived with a smile on her face, all for the 

sake of her children ! 

17 



Cordelia 

Again let me think of that cottage where hills 

sloped to the westward ; 
Home's not the gilded hall, nor the palace with 

splendid appointments, 
Home is the place where love waits to welcome 

and care for its tenants. 
Home in that humble cottage! My eyes see it 

still in my dreaming! 
One little room was our kitchen, sitting-room, 

dining-room, parlor. 
And o'er it another will live in my memory for- 
ever ! 
In it an old-fashioned bed, with coverlets warm 

and in plenty, 
And sleeping upon it betimes in the wild nights 

of the winter. 
Looking up through the roof to the stars that 

shone clear in the heavens. 
In morning brushing away the snow which had 

blown through the shingles, 
Were two boys who lived and loved in the joy 

of their happy boyhood ! 

Glad were the summers with riotous sports in 
the field and woodland ! 
Happy the gladsome hours that were spent with 
the youths and the maidens ; 



Cordelia 

Happy the hours we beguiled in the rigorous 

winter season, 
Skating the frozen pond, or in coasting with 

crowds down the hillside ! 
Comes the scene to me now as I sit in the midst 

of my dreaming. 
Follow I now in my thought a light which gleams 

out in the darkness, 
I come to the cottage door, and pause ere the 

latch is uplifted, » 

Listening am I, with heart and soul, to a voice 

that is singing — 
*Tis the voice of my grandmother — this of her 

singing the burden, 
"Nearing am I the heavenly ranks of the holy 

and kindred ; 
Brush I the dews on the banks of the Jordan; 

near is the crossing !" 
Open the door I push, and at table is seated my 

mother. 
Busied with labor still, though the lamps of the 

evening are lighted; 
Lifts she at once her head, and with a saddened 

smile bids me welcome! 
I awake from my dream, so sad that only a 

dream it should be ! 



19 



Cordelia 

Silent beneath the sod to-day are the dead lips 

of the singer! 
Silent beneath the sod are the fingers that once 

were so busy ! 

Pious Cordelia was, and very careful that all 

of her children 
Reared should be in the practice and faith of 

the Christian religion; 
Always faithful was she in attendance at hours 

when the worship 
Was observed in the little old church of which 

she was a member. 
Thither she led her sons, teaching them by ex- 
ample and precept 
How they, 'mid the world's trials and follies, 

should follow the Saviour. 
Neither neglected she to look after the mind's 

careful training — 
She was a lover of books, and of learning well 

knew the value; 
Kept she by toil of her hands her sons in the 

school of the village. 
Prize I that training highly, the training of school 

and of chapel. 
Training that looked to the health of the mind 

and fruits of religion. 
20 



Cordelia 

Thus, as the years, one by one, with speed that 

was swift and unerring, 
Glided into the past, and of them remained but 

a memory. 
Ripened the children from boys to the years and 

stature of manhood ; 
The widow, with memories of yore which were 

sweetest and saddest. 
Had over the pathway of time arrived at the 

years of the matron. 
Lives in my mind and my heart this woman, well- 
famed for her virtue; 
Not of the shapeliest form, nor of dress in the 

mode or fashion; 
Showed she her toil, her plainness the result of 

her poverty. 
Yet was she splendid, having the carriage and 

grace of a lady, 
A personality expressive of much that was 

beautiful — 
Eyes that were brown, with a look in them of 

tenderness infinite; 
Lips that were firm, and round them depres- 
sion of lingering sadness ; 
Plentiful hair that was brown, and combed 

smoothly over her forehead, 



21 



Cordelia 

After a fashion, though old, which suited her 

face to perfection. 
Such, as I look through the Past, was Cordelia, 

queen among mothers! 

But, with the burdens and sorrows stern life 

had laid on her shoulders. 
Came there at last a most painful breaking of 

heart and of courage; 
And down sat Cordelia to gaze trustingly out o'er 

the pathway 
So many had trodden before her — to the great 

faith of her soul 
The way, sharply defined, as she saw it, to glory 

immortal ! 
Sorrows and difficult burdens she raised for the 

sake of others, 
With the tension strong which had been long on 

her heart-strings, 
Brought her the final summons which called her 

across the dark river. 
Yet complaint was there none, only a waiting 

trustful and patient; 
Paused she and rested awhile ere she bowed to 

this summons final. 
Thinking with joy and pride on the works which 

her hands had accomplished, 

22 



Cordelia 

Till in the glow of the sunset stood she at edge 
of the crossing, 

Sank in a pang of her suffering into unconscious- 
ness blissful, 

Quitted this earth with its shadows to be with 
Jesus and loved ones ! 

Never shall be forgotten the day I last looked 

on her features. 
Urging my way o'er the hills from a town a few 

miles in distance 
Came I at last to the old home from which 

life's duties had thrust me. 
Stopped was the throb of her heart a few hours 

before my arrival ; 
Silent she lay, with the stillness and myst'ry of 

death around her ; 
Sleeping she seemed to be, on the face an ex- 
pression most life-like. 
As though she had lain down to rest, to waken 

refreshed from slumber. 
With the light of a smile ; and I could not resist 

the impression 
That, in passing from pain in this world to the 

bliss of the other. 
The welcome glad from friends thrilled her soul 

with a joy so ecstatic, 
23 



Cordelia 

The radiant smile on the sleeping features, so 

peaceful and happy, 
Was the reflected brightness that burst on her 

glorified spirit ! 

Stood we and wept out our sorrow, the three 
bereft of her presence, 

Yet we thought, 'mid our tears, of the gladness 
she found in reunions ; 

Up in the Father's house, in the country eternal 
and glorious, 

Doubtless her soul found again the loves it had 
lost and had yearned for ; 

Joined the chorus angelic, for which she had 
made preparation; 

Found there the land of the young, where wast- 
ing disease never enters ; 

Bathed her freed spirit in light from the throne 
of God and the Saviour ; 

Shouted o'er victories won in the path of life, 
rough and thorny; 

Thankful for all the burdens so heavy and well- 
nigh overwhelming. 

That by them at least she reached the home that 
is changeless, immortal. 

Resting there she abides, and the heavenly fruits 
make her youthful ; 

24 



Cordelia 

Resting there she abides in the dwellings that 

front on the river ! 
There I shall see her, though I know not now the 

time of the meeting ; 
But when my sun is setting, my feet touch the 

brink of the crossing, 
Gladly, I know, will her voice sound with some- 
thing like the old home-call ; 
And I shall see her with Jesus, her face will 

speak out its welcome. 
With hand clasped in hand, triumphant we'll pass 

through the shining portal. 
At home evermore in the blest place of the 

Saviour's preparing ! 

Sadly followed we her remains out to the quiet 

old churchyard, 
Where the two little ones sleep, and where is the 

shade of the maples, 
Buried her form from sight and left her alone 

with the centuries. 
While o'er her bosom shall grow the grasses or 

whistle the storm-wind. 

Still stands the beautiful village embosomed in 
hills and meadows ; 
Down through the valley beside it bickers the 
stream toward the ocean; 

25 



Cordelia 

All o'er the crests of the mountains the woods 

lift their branches skyward, 
And stately monarchs grand of the forest stand, 

like sentinels old, 
Watching with vigilant eye the fields and the 

people beneath them. 

Still on a clear summer evening the sun, in the 

western heavens, 
Spreads out glorious banners resplendent with 

amber and crimson ; 
And bright in the soft twilight, as swallows wing 

flight to the home-nest, 
Hesperus, radiant queen of the star-world, shines 

for a little, 
Then sinks, with the close of the day, to the far 

land of the sunset. 



26 



The Consecratioa 

A LEGEND OF OUR COLONIAL PERIOD 

Where the Wissahickon rolls its torrents onward 

to the sea, 
Dwelt there once among some mystics one who 

hailed from Germany; 
Scorning wealth and noble title, he had crossed 

the water-way, 
That he might instruct his children, and have 

time to think and pray. 

'Twas an era of oppression in this New World 

o*er the wave ; 
Cries from those in cruel bondage rose to God 

that He would save. 
Till a voice had come which told them that, as 

e'en God's Son had died 
To redeem a sad world fallen, they should never 

be denied. 

Far around the snow was trackless, and the grim 

old forest trees 
Swayed and groaned, while icy crystals swarmed 

in air like summer bees, 

27 



Cordelia 

When one night, the old man waited with his 

children at his knee, 
Full of faith for the fulfillment of a spoken 

prophecy ; 

For prediction had been uttered how upon this 

very night. 
At the third hour of the morning, God unto the 

watching sight 
Would reveal a strong Deliverer; so they silent 

vigil kept, 
Till across the storm-strewn threshold a stately 

stranger stepped. 

Tall was he, with form majestic, and upon his 
manly face 

Noble calm, while all his bearing spoke of dignity 
and grace. 

"Friends," he said, in salutation, "give me in- 
formation, pray; 

Having lost it, you will tell me whither I can 
find my way ?" 

Then the waiting, watching mystic did a kind of 

rapture feel — 
" Tis not so ; you have but found it. At this 

holy altar kneel 

28 



The Consecration 

For the oil of consecration; unto you is mission 

given 
Great as ever was man's portion from the gracious 

hand of Heaven. 

"Deem this not the idle fancy of an overtaxed 
brain ; 

Listen : for your country's future anxious, court- 
ing sleep in vain, 

Forth you rode into the night-time, conscience 
ever questioning. 

Is it lawful for the subject to draw sword against 
his king? 

"And the beast by you unguided, wandered on, 
you cared not where. 

Till he brought you here in safety to the shelter 
of my care. 

Ask me not how know I these things. Has not 
God His will made known. 

How to this down-trodden people shall deliver- 
ance be shown?" 

Deeply moved by such behavior, the traveler 

bowed his head 
To receive the holy ointment. "Promise me," 

the good man said, 

29 



Cordelia 

"That when strikes the hour of justice — o'er the 

land war's clouds portend, 
Then your sword shall leap its scabbard, and 

your country's cause defend. 

"Promise when you see your soldiers suffering 

for fire and bread; 
Or if once a grateful people, by your arm to 

vict'ry led, 
Should bow down to you in homage, pledge me 

to remember still, 
To bring forth a nation's freedom, you but work 

the great God's will. 

"In His name who hears the needy when they 

cry unto His throne, 
I now give you consecration; fear not, look to 

Him alone, 
And as you are leal and honest, never doubt but 

God will be 
Your protector in the conflict, and will give you 

victory. 

"Let no crown be on your forehead; but the 

wreath your brow shall wear 
Be the blessings and the honors a free people 

garland there. 

30 



The Consecration 

Take my hand, and hear me swear it by the God 

who lends me breath, 
That to you, and to this country I will faithful 

be till death!" 

Then his daughter placed a chaplet of the laurel 
she had wrought, 

Like those worn by Grecian victors, by their 
deeds of prowess bought ; 

While the son, who stood in waiting, now with 
sword in hand drew nigh, 

And, as fell the benediction, girt it on the stran- 
ger's thigh. 

Stepped he thence unto the altar where the Word 

was open laid — 
On its page a hand he rested, to his lips he 

pressed the blade ; 
Then a vow those firm lips parted, as he raised 

his noble head, 
(While his eye with lustre lighted: "I will keep 

the faith," he said ! 

Morning dawned, and from his shelter went the 

wand'rer forth again, 
Giving naught of name or station; but there 

came a time when men 

31 



Cordelia 

Saw Columbia's acres lighted by the flames of 

tyranny, 
And they sought for one who bravely should 

forever set them free. 

Then appeared for their redemption one whose 

consecration vow 
Made him victor in the conflict; and his fellows 

count him now 
First 'mid warfare's gallant captains, first the 

country's heart who won — 
We enshrine his name forever, the immortal 

Washington ! 



32 



A Summer Reverie 

To-day I walk beside the stream 

Where youthful fancies had their dream, 

A glorious summer beauty fills 

The spreading fields and rising hills. 

I muse in reminiscent mood; 
In years agone two boys once stood 
Where swayed the alder's bending bough 
Precisely as I see it now. 

The older one the younger led, 
With many a whispered caution said, 
"I will reveal — you'll not give out — 
Where lurk the biggest, lustiest trout; 

"I 'spied them but the other day, 
When I was fishing up this way, 
And we shall bag, lest I mistake, 
Of this fine school, a handsome take. 

*'Now, you step softly — don't come near — 
To trust you here at all I fear — 
O'er stream upon this log I'll lie. 
And try my hand for largest fry." 

33 



t 



Cordelia 

I see him now, with warning look. 
Put down his nicely fitted hook, 
The while I wait, 'mid stillness round, 
For him to bring the trout to ground. 



I hear it now, as in a dream — 
Beneath the log the boiling stream — 
And the defeated angler's shout, 
"Confound it all! I've lost the trout! 



"It's all because you came too near I 
Now, what I say I bid you hear : 
When next a-fishing I shall go. 
The time and place you shall not knowT* 



O, shades of happy fishermen, 
Who lingered there before ahd then, 
O, tell us why, as Burns hath taught, 
The best-laid plans oft come to naught? 



Our schemes on many an ill-fraught day 
Bring nothing but most dire dismay; 
We look for Fortune's fav'ring smile, 
But Disappointment waits the while! 

34 



A Summer Reverie 

Why is it, when in life we fail, 
We send forth nothing but a wail? 
And, Adam-like, look round for one 
To lay the blame of failure on? 

Better to rise, assert the will. 
Seeking the use of higher skill, 
And every work with care begun, 
Toil bravely on till fame is won. 

Thus muse I, while the brook still flows; 
The urgent Present rudely throws 
Its veil to hide the Past, which teems 
With memories, and so end my dreams. 

This is the blessing I would ask : 
The strength to do my daily task; 
Such beauty all my life may fill 
As floods to-day o'er field and hill. 



35 



The Agricultural Fair 

'Tis in the ripening autumn days, 
Resplendent, crisp September — 
The time the crowds remember — 

When far and near through the country-side 

Is heard the clatter of those who ride 
In the early morning weather — 
In the cool and bracing weather. 

They rattle along o'er the dusty way, 

Dressed each in his holiday array, 

The noise of wheels and their laughter gay, 
Gladdens the fresh'ning air. 

*Tis now they go to the annual show — 
The agricultural fair. 

A curious crowd is this to me. 
Who are met together here — 
Some have not met for a year: 
Here is John, with his very best girl — 
The finest chance to give her a whirl 
Up behind his bay that can pace — 
How he beats them all at the pace! 
And his Betsey makes him glad to-day. 
Saying the word he wants her to say, 

36 



The Agricultural Fair 

Giving her heart to him for alway, 

They are a happy pair ! 
'Tis thus things go at the annual show — 

The agricultural fair! 

And the farmer's stalwart form we see 

Amid the throng and babble. 

He enjoys the noisy rabble; 
His quiet life in the stretching fields 
No great amount of excitement yields ; 

This crowd is a breath from the world — 

The rushing and hurrying world. 
And with him sleek kine, or well-trained steer, 
"The best you will see," says he, "this year; 
Always manage to bring something here; 

The judges treat me square. 
That's why I go to this annual show — 

This agricultural fair." 

But come with me to the floral hall, 

The place where the women gather, 

Their realm and glory, rather. 
"An apron like that red calico, 
I had when I went to school, I know," 

Says one of a patch-work quilt — 

Of the old "log-cabin" quilt. 
"Mrs. Samuel Thompson, I'd think, 

37 



Cordelia 

Wouldn't bring that old quilt made of pink- 
You could tell it anywhere in a wink; 

It always hangs right there !" 
They're often so at the annual show — 

The agricultural fair. 

Round this corner the seller of whips 

Is shouting like creation ! 

He whips to beat the nation ; 
While yonder, in full "exhibition/* 
Himself in the best of ''condition," 

Stands forth the medicine vender — 

With buncombe the nostrum vender, 
Most wonderful cures beyond all doubt, 
From corn on the toe to troublesome gout, 
For slightest pay shall be brought about; 

He takes the shekels there. 
How little we know at this annual show — 

The agricultural fair. 

But horses, of animals the king". 

Honored in song and story, 

Are here in all their glory. 
How they arch their necks and sniff the air. 
From coldest of blood to proudest pair, 

All doing their best to excel — 

The drivers each hope to excel. 

38 



The Agricultural Fair 

Nobly one steps in his trappings gay, 
As though to the gazing crowd he'd say, 
"I'd have you know that this is my day;" 

He takes the premium there. 
You'll see it so at the annual show — 

The agricultural fair. 

The racers are here, with flying speed, 

They flame with the conq'ror's fire. 

They pant with a high desire 
Now, while the onlooking people wait. 
With giant endurance, swinging gait, 

To make all the race-course thunder — 

An exciting kind of thunder. 
Wild are men when the races begin. 
Wilder yet if a favorite win. 
While those who lose much valuable "tin" 

A dubious face must wear. 
'Tis often so at the annual show — 

The agricultural fair. 

The day is done and homeward they go 
In cool and crisp September — 
The time they'll e'er remember ; 
And far and near through the country-side, 
Is heard the chatter of those who ride 
Toward home in the evening weather — 
In the cool and bracing weather. 

39 



Cordelia 

They chase along o'er the dusty way — 

'Tis a sorry time for best array ! 

But noise of wheels and their laughter gay 

Float on the twilight air. 
And thus they go from the annual show — 

The agricultural fair. 



40 



The Legend of the Dipper 

Once in a country far away — 
So runs the legendary lore — 

A suff'ring people cried in pain, 
By reason of their thirsting sore. 

The rivers and the springs were dry, 
Dead were the flowers and the grass ; 

The birds were hoarse, and could not sing, 
And all the heavens above were brass. 

The land was sad and sorrowful, 

Gaunt Famine stalked the country wide. 

Full many in the stricken homes 

From cruel, parching thirst had died. 

One night, with dipper in her hand, 
Out underneath the watching skies. 

Went forth a maid to find, perchance, 
Where springs of water had their rise. 

She came into a silent wood, 

And kneeling there beneath a tree 

Prayed earnestly to God for help — 
That He would her condition see. 

4t 



Cordelia 

The burden of her plea was rain ; 

If not on all the shower might fall, 
Would not the good Lord send enough 

To simply fill her dipper small? 

So long the prayer, o'er drowsy eyes 
The god of sleep his mantle threw; 

Lo, when she woke the cup was filled 
With water fresh as morning dew ! 

Ne'er paused the maiden in her joy 

To moisten her own parched lips first; 

Remembered she her mother dear, 
Dying in agonies of thirst. 

So toward her home she ran with haste, 
Nor on her mission lagged or stopped; 

But, woeful case, she, stumbling, fell, 
And from her hand the dipper dropped ! 

While prone upon the ground she lay. 
Well-nigh too faint to rise again, 

She felt the grass beside her move. 
And from it came a cry of pain. 

A fainting dog was lying there, 

And dying from the scorching sun. 

The cup she raised ; she thought to give 
A drop e'en to this thirsty one. 

42 



The Legend of the Dipper 

O, blessed sight! O, glad surprise! 

The dipper so divinely filled 
Had still been kept by unseen Hand, 

So that the water had not spilled. 

Now as she poured within her hand 
Some water for the brute's sad need. 

At once there came a blessing grand 
Which quite repaid her for the deed ; 

For, lo! the dipper by her held, 
The water clear and cool within, 

Was changed, by wondrous miracle. 
To silver pure from one of tin ! 

Homeward the journey then she made; 

To other hands the treasure gave, 
Which in her heart she hoped would be 

The means her mother's life to save. 

The matron saw the liquid cool — 

She looked with longing, glazing eye; 

But, with a noble sacrifice. 

She turned away, prepared to die. 

'T cannot take from one so young 
What shall to her of value be ; 

You long may live ; I soon must die ; 
What matter a few days to me?" 

43 



Cordelia 

Thus to the daughter spoke the dame, 
And passed the dipper from her hand; 

Lo, as it passed, a change was wrought; 
The chahce was a golden band! 

As now the servant thought to pass 
To each the water to them sent 

There stood a stranger at the door, 
With saddened looks and figure bent. 

The lines of sorrow on his brow. 
The depth of sadness in his face, 

His urgent need and vestments poor, 
Appealed to all within the place. 

With grateful heart he raised his eyes 
When to his hand the dipper came; 

"Blessed is he," he said, "who gives 
A cup of water in His name." 

Then all about him splendors shone, 

A radiance of dazzling light ; 
The golden goblet which he held 

Was set. with seven diamonds bright. 

But joy ! it suddenly became 

A gushing fountain, pure and sweet; 
Flowing throughout the thirsty land, 

A boon for all the suff'ring meet. 

44 



The Legend of the Dipper 

Then through the night, from gladdened earth, 
Up where the stars so brilliant shine. 

The seven jewels took their way, 
Sparkling with beauty most divine! 

There, from a golden chalice pure. 

The starry dipper in the skies 
Is set to tell to all who see 

The blessing of self-sacrifice. 



45 



Tk Land of the Young 

•'And entering into the sepulchre, they saw a young 
man." — St. Mark xvi. 5. 

Within the Holy Book I turned and read 
The story how the women sought the Dead, 

But found where He had lain 
An angel visitant arrayed in white. 
Around Him shimmered aureoles of light 
Like that which later flooded all the skies 
When exiled John, with gaze-enraptured eyes. 

Looked o'er the heav'nly plain. 

Eternal youth sat on his brow, for he 
Was from a land where age can never be; 
His glad evangel fell on mortal ear : 
"The Christ is risen; lo, He is not here!" 

But as the sacred lore 
I conned, if I might learn what lesson still 
From this first Easter should my bosom thrill. 
Fresh as the morn appears when night is done, 
To my rapt soul there came a precious one 

I had not seen before ! 

Now for my heart these words new meaning hold ; 
Though one by one my life's swift years be told. 
And backward hurled as leaves on tempests flung, 
I'll find them in the country of the young. 

46 



The Absent 

Here on this grassy slope we sat us down 
As only truest comrades ever may, 
Watching the winding river thrid its way 

Through mottled meadows, past the sleepy town. 

Arm clasped in arm, 'mid fields we wandered 
slow, 
Our converse ran with easy flow, and free, 
And life was at its full, sweet flood with me — • 

'Twas yesterday, and yet so long ago ! 



47 



SONNETS 



The Reformer 

His feet are on the heights where heroes stand, 
And, Argus-eyed, his vision scans the years ; 
He sees the burdened ones with sweat and 
tears. 

For them his voice is heard throughout the land ; 

Lo, while he boldly speaks, on every hand 
Opposing power its brazen front uprears, 
E'en where he hoped for sympathy, appears 

A blinded host to check his project grand! 

Yet from the summit thunders he his word, 
A warning cry to turn the falling rod — 
That men may yet dispel the hov'ring gloom; 

But when for human rights they stand unstirred, 
'Tis then is heard the angered tones of God, 
And the Almighty strikes the hour of doom ! 



5t 



The Empty Nest 

I came one day across an empty nest ; 

The wild November winds, with solemn sigh, 
Intoned their mournful measures to the sky ^ 

Gone was the brood which once had found its 
rest 

And safe retreat beneath the mother's breast ; 
Gone was the smile of June, and, far on high, 
The leaden, wind-borne rack went flying by. 

While Nature in her slumber-robe was dressed. 
So loves and hopes must wither and decay. 
The light and joy and song of home depart. 

And missing be the forms we erst have pressed ; 
No life but knows its chill, November day, 
Nor in this world was ever there a heart 

That did not hold in grief its empty nest! 



52 



March 

The wild and noisy March his war-cry rings 
And sets his storm-cloud banner in the sky ; 
The sun in veiled splendor moves on high; 
The wind from out the frozen Northland sings 
In diapason full ; the warrior flings 
All o'er the slumb'ring land, with shriek and 

sigh, 
The snowy emblems of his empery. 
And takes his ermined throne with pomp like 

kings. 
Yet well I know his reign cannot be long, 
For 'mid his loudest notes I still can hear 
The south wind stir, while growing daffodils 
Their spathes uplift, and through it all the song 
That tells my glad'ning heart the Spring is 

near. 
And soon the summer time shall crown the 
hills! 



53 



Jtine 

Oh, June, thou splendid month of roses red, 
That burden all the air with odors sweet, 
I lift my joyful eyes again to greet 

Thy sapphire skies which vault me overhead; 

I hear through all the year thy coming tread, 
As march the moving days with hurried feet. 
And often wish the flying time more fleet, 

That thou may'st to thy rosy throne be led. 

Yet, though I prize thy scented, songful hours, 
Thy precious dews amid the twilight still, 
I love thee more for time long gone, I ween, 

When, 'mong her cool and fragrance-laden 
bowers. 
Waiting with joy my longing heart to fill, 
I won the rarest woman for my queen! 



54 



The Happy 

I count him happy in this world of care, 
Where pain and sorrow are the common lot. 
And oft obscuring clouds arise to blot 

With shadows what would be a prospect fair. 

Who, though the rue be his, and he must fare 
The way alone, by helpers all forgot. 
Meekly looks up, and, trusting, murmurs not. 

But keeps his course, and finds a blessing there. 

He dwells from jarring elements apart. 

Where angels of contentment guard him 
round ; 

A peace seraphic fills with joy the heart. 

The pathway which he treads is holy ground; 

He lives a conqueror o'er sordid things, 

And upward mounts as if on eagles' wings ! 

LofC. 



55 



Lake George 

How beautiful thy placid bosom lies 
In the embrace of verdant, cloud-crowned hills ; 
Thy softened, healthful mountain breeze dis- 
tills 

Sweet balm for him who to thy quiet flies ; 

Scene upon scene, each with the other vies, 
As here this fairy land my vision fills, 
To lift, in peace, the heart of him who wills 

Toward better things above the arching skies. 

Dull must he be of heart, and eye, and ear. 
Who fails to learn the lessons thou dost teach, 
And does not note the grandeur of the place ; 

Feels not, in silent awe, a Presence near. 

Nor hears, in everything around. His speech 
Who sets His kiss upon thy sunlit face. 



56 



Old Age 

♦'Old age is dark and unlovely."— Ossian. 

Tis true if all the precious time is spent 
Amid the stress and fret of anxious care 
For things that perish ere we are aware; 

If all our energies are ever bent 

On worldly power or pelf; not one intent 
That by the lips in word, or song, or prayer, 
We help some soul his heavy burden bear, 

Nor deem ourselves on holy missions sent. 

Yet have I seen age beautiful and calm, 
The day's work done, the happy soul at rest. 

Its ear turned even then to catch the psalm 
Down-ringing from the mansions of the blest ; 

So in my heart I hold this blessed truth ; 

Old age may but begin eternal youth. 



57 



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